


Doors of Perception

by writeme



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-21 20:45:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17649569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeme/pseuds/writeme
Summary: Alternate ending to 3x10.Archie walks through the door to find Betty's doorstep on the other end, taking him back to the night where everything went wrong. The night he rejected her. Will he find a way to fix what he has broken before it's too late?





	Doors of Perception

**Author's Note:**

> Partially inspired by this prompt submitted to BarchieFanfiction on Tumblr: "Tell me you don’t have feelings for me. Tell me that right here, right now, standing this close to me that you feel nothing for me. Tell me!"
> 
> Please leave a review and tell me what you think! I could see this turning into a multi-chapter fic if I get enough interest. Thank you so much for reading!

When he opens the door, it doesn’t lead him to his bedroom. He doesn’t find his sleeping form tucked in his bed waiting to be destroyed by this tougher, darker version of himself. Instead, he sees the door of her house. Just like he had what seemed like a lifetime ago now. In a further moment of deja vu, he watches as the door opens and Betty comes out wearing that same pink dress she’d worn to the dance. The one, he realizes now, she was wearing in the vision he’d just had of his friends in the cabin, encouraging him to play. He doesn’t have time to unpack that yet because she’s striding toward him both confident and nervous and he remembers this moment with such stark clarity that he knows what’s coming next. 

His heart is beating in his ears as she speaks. Tells him she isn’t going to ask what happened with him and Veronica at Cheryl’s and he has to stifle a laugh because in the grand scheme of everything that seems so insignificant and faraway now. But then she’s asking him that question he got wrong the first time and it’s suddenly crystal clear why his subconscious has sent him back to this moment. “I’m asking if you love me…” The tears stinging her eyes are enough to break his heart all over again.

He remembers what he said the first time. Of course he loved her! But he wasn’t good enough, she was too perfect. He hadn’t meant for those words to hurt her, they were supposed to spare her the pain that he saw foreshadowed in their future. But, as it turned out, their lives would be riddled with pain anyway. Despite his best efforts to protect her by pushing her away, things had still gone to shit. Perhaps that had been his gravest mistake; to deny his feelings for her. They had always been better together after all; stronger, smarter, more capable. 

The pained look on her face drew him back to reality. He was taking too long to answer. But, he has to get it right this time. “Of course I love you,” he echoed his response to their original conversation. He moved closer to her though and willed himself to find the right words this time. 

“Okay so then why don’t you...want me?” Her voice was thick and her eyes were rimmed red. He hates seeing her like this, especially when he knows he’s the cause of her sadness. Ultimately, wasn’t that what he was trying to avoid in the first place? Wasn’t that why he’d rejected her to begin with?

He takes her hand in spite of himself. “It’s not that simple-.” But, wasn’t it? His courage staggers for a moment and he forces himself to take a ragged breath. “I’m scared,” he confesses that as much to himself as to her. “If I hurt you, if I caused irreparable damage to our friendship I would never be able to forgive myself.” He’s surprised he’s actually said those words out loud but after the other scenarios he’s been through so far, he knows he should just be honest with himself. This will go a lot easier if he just learns whatever this vision is trying to teach him or make him see. “You’re the most important person to me in the entire universe, Bets.” His hand had moved, seemingly on its own accord, to cup her face and he couldn’t help but feel his heart clench at the way she relaxed so willingly into his touch, how her eyes fluttered closed. Her absolute trust in him wasn’t forced or feigned, it was built on their foundation of friendship, of the love she’d always harbord for him. That love, however, had long blossomed into something more for the both of them. Of course in this dream or alternate reality or whatever it was he had the advantage of knowing things she didn’t know. Things this still innocent version of herself could never imagine they’d go through. She was still capable of holding onto optimism because she didn’t know what would happen.

“It’s not going to ruin anything.” She spoke the words assuredly, like it was a promise she could keep for the both of them out of sheer will alone. “It’s going to make everything better; make us closer.” It was like she could feel his thoughts radiating off of him.

He wants to believe her and some parts of him do. Their fingers have become intertwined at his left side and his skin tingles where it touches hers. Their connection is magnanimous and undeniable, and suddenly anything he wants to say about her being in love with some version of him she’s conjured up in her head seems worthless and unwarranted. His natural inclination is to push her away, reiterate that he’ll never be good enough for her. But perhaps he’s been sent back to this moment because he isn’t supposed to use those excuses this time. 

Yet, as he studies her perfect, full, bottom lip that is practically screaming out to be touched by him, he still feels the need to send her away. “It’s not that I don’t want you, Betty.” The confession slips out before he can stop it and now he can’t take it back. It hangs between them only briefly before it’s tarnished by his next statement. “But I don’t deserve you or the way you’re looking at me. I have this darkness inside of me and I can’t let it hurt you.” It’s a chore to force out the last part. Because it’s the truth. That’s what he’s always wanted to protect her from, the darkness that exists inside of him. The one that makes him thirsty for revenge at any cost. The one that sent him on the run in the first place. He can’t risk letting her get caught in whatever crosshairs he’ll undoubtedly find on him.

He expects to find sadness on her face but he finds wistfulness instead. In fact, if he’s not mistaken, she actually giggles and shakes her head at him. “Oh Arch, you don’t think I already know that?” It’s her turn to cup his face and he can’t help but have a similar response of relaxing with ease into her soft, sweet touch. “I have darkness in me too,” She whispers softly, her voice almost a breeze against his skin. “But, I’m not afraid of the dark, especially not when I’m with you. Besides, we can bring flashlights.” She flashes him a misplaced smile and he wants to grin with her, let her positivity be infectious, but he feels restrained still and like he needs to put up a fight, for both of their sakes.

  
“It’s not that simple Bets-”

“It can be though.” She dares back before he can finish that half-assed argument he’d barely even crafted.

“I’m not sure I can be the man you want or deserve, I just-”

She steps closer to him and the sudden proximity cuts him off before her words do. Her wistful tone has been replaced by a more challenging one. “Tell me you don’t have feelings for me. Tell me that right here, right now, standing this close to me that you feel nothing for me.” Her chest is pressed to his now and any semblance of space between them no longer exists. If he’d thought he was tingling when their skin made contact earlier, then he was practically vibrating now.

  
“Betty, I-”   


“Tell me!” She challenged again, drawing her hand down to rest against his chest, her fingers tapping expectantly against the less than luxurious fabric of his suit jacket. 

He wants to tell her all of those things. He wants to spare her the pain of loving him like he did in reality. But this is a dream. A hallucination at best, what’s the harm in just seeing what it would be like? Her eyes shine with expectancy and hope and he can’t bring himself to destroy it. Not here. Not this time. “I could tell you those things.” He sighs, looking down so that their eyes are locked on each others, “But, you’ve always been able to tell when I was lying so it wouldn’t do me any good anyway.”

She opens her mouth to respond but her lips parting this close to him seems to awaken some carnal and instinctive need within him because the next thing he knows he’s kissing her. It’s not timid or reserved like their real first kiss, the one they’d shared at the wrong place and time in front of Cheryl’s. No, this kiss is in a class of its own. His arm snakes around her waist, his hand settling at the small of her back, melding them together. This kiss says everything he’s never been able to articulate about how he feels about her and what she means to him. This kiss changes everything.

Suddenly, he’s overcome with overwhelming sadness because this isn’t really happening. This isn’t really Betty. She isn’t really his. This harsh dose of reality breaks their kiss. He doesn’t realize he’s crying until her thumbs are brushing away his tears. “What’s wrong?” She asks softly, drawing him against her without hesitation or reservation.

“It’s not real.” He whispers, but even so he lets himself kiss her again because even though it’s not real; it could’ve been. And this is how it would’ve felt. He’s suddenly angry for robbing them both of this experience. He knows he’ll never forget the feel of her lips or the taste of them, even when he wakes up. He knows he’ll never stop craving them. He also knows he’ll never have them, not anymore. She loves Jug. The window he’d single-handedly decided needed t be forcibly closed, locked, and sealed- would remain that way.

When the kiss breaks this time they’re no longer standing outside of her house. As he opens his eyes he notices they’re somehow in his room. He looks around, confused at first. The room is basked in a faint glow of moonlight and street lamps that permeate through his uncurtained window. It creates a halo around her already angelic blonde hair, “It can be real.” She affirms, pressing her lips to his again and moving them backward.

When he feels his knees hit the side of the bed, he sits, pulling her with him. “We can’t,” He sighs, “We shouldn’t-” But every excuse he tries to muster dies on his lips as they find hers again. “Fuck it-” He mutters to himself, giving in to his desires once and for all. If this isn’t real- there can’t be any consequences to giving in any way.

His deft fingers find the zipper of her dress and it gives them both chills when he tugs it down and the fabric falls from her shoulders. His breath catches as he looks at the matching lingerie set she wears that tells the story of how she’d hoped the night would end. He wonders if this is something his own mind has conjured up, but somehow, he knows it isn’t. He stops trying to rationalize any of this and finally lets go.

He makes love to her. It’s more than he could ever imagine. He feels everything he’s ever wanted to feel. The love that radiates off of her is overwhelming. They cuddle after, before going at it again. And then a third time. He knows he has to savor this while he can. He thinks maybe it’s selfish, but if this hallucination is the only he way he gets to be with her for the rest of his life, he’s going to make it count while he still can. He assumes that when he falls asleep he’ll either wake up to the next part of the game or maybe he’ll have succumbed to his injuries and whatever purgatory he’d been experiencing for the past however long would cease to exist.

He supposed there would be a kind of beauty in it all ending like this. In fact he almost wills himself to slip away and let this be his last memory, even if it isn’t real. He lets his eyes close briefly and sleep is ready to come for him, but her voice brings him back. “What are you thinking about?” She asks quietly.

His eyes snap open, willing him to stay here as long as he can. “How I wish this was real.” He admits earnestly, knowing she probably won’t understand. His voice is thick with sleep and his eyes become heavy again. He knows he can’t hold on much longer, but he isn’t exactly sure what it means. He isn’t as scared as he thought he would be, though. 

Everything starts fading away into blackness and he feels the dream coming to an end. He feels tears spring in his eyes and he tightens his grip on her body, which is heaped sleepily against his, not ready to let go yet. Eventually, even the feeling of her begins to fade and just before the moment ends completely, he hears her voice in the faintest of whispers. “It is.”

Then, everything fades to black.

When he comes to, he knows something doesn’t seem quite right, but he can’t exactly place it. In fact, he finds himself in his bedroom and it feels like it’s been weeks since he’s actually been here. When the bed shifts and a warm body is pressed against his, lips bestow a lazy kiss to the place where his would-be injury should have covered. Afraid whatever moment this is might end if he opens his eyes, he keeps them closed, yet he tugs the form close against him. He needn’t see her to know it’s Betty. He can feel her, all around him. He still has the wherewithal to understand the importance of savoring this feeling.  “I had a strange dream..” He mumbles, trying to remember what it was. 

He conjures up bits and pieces of memories that seem to be swirling around his mind. It’s hard to tell what’s real and what isn’t. Something about a bear, Betty loving Jughead, being on the run from Hiram Lodge? But just as quickly as those notions appear in his mind’s eye, they flit away before he can fully understand. It doesn’t help that his companion is drawing distracting shapes against his warm, bare skin which only serves to make it harder to concentrate. Suddenly, he recalls details in more clarity. The feel of her fingernails dragging across his back and digging into his shoulder. The fireworks her lips left behind as they trailed over his skin. The soft rock of her hips that culminated in moans of ecstasy. “Betty…” Her name is barely a whisper as his nerves ignite with the memory of how making love to her felt in that dream.

He’s startled more fully awake when he hears a response of “Hmm?” And then the body that had been draped over him shifts again, causing him to open his eyes. He looks down and sees her expectant face and for a moment he’s unable to process that it’s actually her until she pushes a strand of blonde hair back out of her eyes. Her hair is piled in a messy bun atop her head and he can tell that the game or hallucination as brought him to a new scenario.

“You’re still here.” Then, more sadly he adds, “That means I’m still dreaming,” He smiles in spite of himself because even though this can’t be real, he’s content to spend a little more time living in this fantasy he’s created for them. Maybe he’s in a coma in a hospital in Canada and this is all being induced by a line of morphine being pumped into him steadily through an IV. Whatever it is, he’s happy to stay here with her as long as he can. 

When her lips are against his an instant later, he can’t help but notice just how real this feels. Last night he was fully aware that everything he was feeling was the product of his imagination. But as he rakes his fingers over her bare chest, the goosebumps that form underneath seem to have appeared on their own accord. He studies her like a book, his eyes taking in every finite detail of the way she looks. He hates himself for rejecting her. Wishes that  _ this  _ was reality and the other stuff was the dream. Or nightmare, as it were. He knows he can’t stay here with her forever but he knows he isn’t ready for it to end either. “I’m so in love with you,” He mutters tearfully before capturing her lips again, pulling her against him. 

Each iteration of this dreamworld serves to reaffirm that every single thing that has gone wrong in his life has stemmed from rejecting her. Every version of her is blissfully unaware of all he has cost them and he can’t bring himself to confess to her that he fucked it up. It takes six rounds of this same instant before he’s fully realizing what he’s meant to do. Why he’s here. Why she is.

He’s been going about it all wrong. When the hallucinations brought him back to their moment in front of her house, the night of the dance, he thought he was supposed to choose her. Follow what his heart had wanted and see where it took them. Doing that was nice, but in all actuality, it did little to bring him closure. He owed her so much more than that, he finally realized. It wasn’t a confession of love he was supposed to give her, it was something more raw than that. The edges of this vision start to blur and he feels himself being dragged away. He knows what he has to say next time he sees her. He hopes this world gives him the chance.

Blackness coats the moment again and then, there is nothingness.

The next time he opens his eyes, it doesn’t feel like he is dreaming. The awful pain he was expecting to find in his chest radiates through each of his shoulders and down past his torso. Heart monitors and machines beep around him and draw him further into reality. The pain of his injury is almost nothing compared to the hole he feels when he realizes that Betty is not really his. That none of what he’s imagined will ever be real. 

He is starkly aware of the dryness of his throat and he pulls an IV clad hand up to his face, pulling the oxygen line from his nose and blinking his eyes a few times to adjust to being awake for the first time in he isn’t sure how long. The room is mostly dark except for the myriad of lights glowing from the plethora of machine’s surrounding his bed. He groans as even the slightest of movements send terrible, dull, aching pains that radiate all the way through him.

Before his eyes are fully adjusted, he hears someone else in the room. He’s barely able to make out their silhouette, but recognizes when the move closer. Suddenly, he feels a straw tap against his dry lips and he parts them, sucking gently until cool water splashes refreshingly over his tongue. He takes a long drink, letting the crisp revitalizing liquid coat his throat and mouth. When he’s had his fill, he turns his head and feels the straw and cup being moved away and hears it being set on the table. Opening his eyes, he’s expecting to find a nurse, but is startled to find Betty looking back him, concern wrought into her brow.

“Fuck- I’m dreaming again, aren’t I?” He growls, averting his eyes from her. He knows what he’s supposed to do but he thought they’d be outside of her house again. He wonders why his subconscious has put him here and given him all the physical pain of his injury this time. He has a feeling that it’s nothing compared to the insurmountable void he will feel when she inevitable rejects him.

“Shitty dream,” She motions around the hospital room, a smirk on her lips nevertheless. She takes a seat in the chair next to his bedside and draws his hand into hers. “I’m pretty sure you’re awake.” She notes, squeezing gently. “Or I’m dreaming too,” She adds surreptitiously. 

“No.” He says firmly, shaking his head. “You wouldn’t be here if this were real life.” His voice sounds so sad and pathetic, but he knows it’s his own fault. After all, he was the one who drove her away. It’s almost more disappointing how they’d let their friendship fall to the wayside since getting into their respective relationships. Maybe it was because deep down, they knew they were never meant to be just friends?

She seems hurt when he says that and drops his hand briefly. It’s not the reaction he’s expecting. “I will always be here when you need me, Arch. No matter what.” Then, she’s taking his hand again and when she squeezes it reassuringly, he forces himself to look at her.

“You won’t, Betty. You can’t.” It’s his turn to retract from her. He knows he doesn’t deserve her comfort. He’s let himself indulge in her too much in the other versions of this head trip. He doesn’t get to, not this time.

“I’m here now, aren’t I?” The earnestness in her voice is almost heart breaking.

“Not really, no…” He begins, frustrated with himself and the grogginess he feels. It makes it harder to articulate what he wants to tell her. And when you can’t coherently make your point, people tend to think you’re just rambling unimportant things.

“You aren’t making any sense, Arch.” She stands up and leans over him, brushing her thumb over his cheek. “You should rest some more, we can talk later.” She adds, leaning down to kiss his forehead and then her hand is reaching out for something on his left side and the pain is seemingly chased away by overwhelming warmth in the form of a morphine drip. He’s afraid if he doesn’t say it now he’ll miss his chance but before he can fight it, he’s giving into her suggestion with heavy eyelids. 

When he awakes again, she’s still there next to him. Her eyes are closed but he can tell she isn’t sleeping. She doesn’t look relaxed enough. Still, he tries not to disturb her as he shifts in the bed to get more comfortable. “You’re awake,” She says, letting him know his efforts were unsuccessful. She stirs from the makeshift ball she’d folded herself into in that seemingly uncomfortable chair and stretches her arms above her head before rising and offering him the cup of water again.

He can’t help but laugh at the words she speaks because he knows he isn’t really awake. But he’s also glad for that, because if he were, he might lose his nerve. After taking another long drink of water, he forces the confession out before the moment can fade out again. “I’m so sorry, Betty.” He says rather suddenly. Tears sting the corners of his eyes and her face softens immediately. “I should’ve apologized to you so long ago,” 

“Shh, Arch you don’t have to apologize for anything-” But he stops her before she can let him off the hook.

“I do though, I really do. I ruined everything that night.” The expression she wears implores him to explain more. She clearly has no idea what he’s referencing so he does his best to clarify. “I should’ve chosen you Betty.” He wishes he could be more articulate but whatever drugs are pumping through the IV to dull the pain are also mitigating his ability to form comprehensible thoughts or sentences. “I was scared of loving you and I pushed you away and it ruined everything.” He forces himself to look at her and he can see her eyes are red with tears. “I didn’t want to hurt you so I tried to let you go.” As he confesses these things, he recalls the dreams he had about her in quick flashes. The feel of her lips on his. The way their bodies moved together so perfectly in sync as they made ardent, passionate love. The details are so real he feels almost dirty thinking about them with her right there. “But I saw how it could have been for us. And I was wrong. I was so wrong. We would’ve been deliriously happy…” He doesn’t know when she sat down on the hospital bed with him, but she’s gathered him into her arms the best that the various cords, plugs, and machines will allow. “You’re not really here.” He reminds himself, as his tears soak the soft fabric of the sweater she wears. “None of this matters.” He tries to push her away again, to retract into his pain. He deserve all of it and more.

She refuses to let go. Her soothing voice is right next to his ear. “I  _ am _ really here.” She whispers, “We are in a hospital. You were attacked by a bear.” As she says the words she seems to realize they will probably do very little to convince him that any of this is in fact real. “You gave my phone number to a nurse and they called me. I came up from Riverdale three days ago. You’ve been mostly out of it since I arrived, but the doctors assure me you’re getting better and that I can take you home soon.” Her tone shifts from a matter-of-fact delivery of truth to a more hopeful one at the last words she speaks. “How are you feeling?”

He smiles remorsefully. It seems plausible. But he knows it’s not real. Betty isn’t here. She can’t be. But yet, somehow she is. She’s so close he can smell the sweet, floral scent of her shampoo. “None of that matters…” Before he can stop himself, he kisses her. It makes his chest hurt in more than one way. The pain of the deep scratches in his chest is truly nothing compared to the agony that courses through him at the abrupt way she pulls away from him. It isn’t just that she breaks the kiss, she stands up and staggers back away from the bed completely breaking the contact between them.

“Archie!” Her fingers are on her lips and she wears a shocked, confused expression. “I’m with Jughead.” 

“No.” He shakes his head with false confidence. “Not here you aren’t at least. This is some hallucination I’ve been having. I think maybe this is the final piece. Don’t worry, it’ll be over soon.” He looks around the room, surprised that he doesn’t recognize anything about it. He’s spent enough time in Riverdale hospital rooms to know that he isn’t in one now. It’s certainly strange, that the hallucinations have brought him somewhere that doesn’t seem familiar, but he doesn’t think much of it.

“Arch you’re-”

“No, you don’t get it. Seriously, Betty! Nothing that happens here matters. It’s not real. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. It’s why I can admit to you that I made a mistake. That I should’ve chosen you. That I think we’re soulmates. That I’ve been madly in love with you since the second grade. That I always fully intended on asking you to marry me when we’re eighteen. I can say all of that and I don’t have to be scared because I’ll close my eyes and when I open them again, I’ll be in some other form of this dream. There won’t be any consequences. No one gets hurt. I can kiss you, you can like it. We can be together. It’s okay if I don’t wake up because this is so much better than what it really is I….” He trails off as he studies the unreadable expression on her face.

She’s quiet for a long time and she isn’t looking at him. She’s staring intently at the floor and he thinks it’s an odd reaction. She should’ve kissed him by now. Thrown caution to the wind. She shouldn’t be sad or worried. She definitely shouldn’t be crying. They’re supposed to be happy here. That’s the whole reason he hasn’t tried to wake up. 

“It’s not supposed to be like this.” He forces his eyes closed with the hopes that when he “wakes up” maybe they’ll be back in his room, wrapped up in his sheets like the last few times. Instead, he sees the same sad, worried look on her face and the same stark, cold hospital room. He closes his eyes again, maybe he just needs to keep them shut for longer, squeeze them tighter.

There’s another beat of silence as he struggles to restart this part of the ‘dream’ unsuccessfully. “Arch, it’s not a dream. Not this time.” She says, her voice laced with a mixture of sadness and regret. Nevertheless, she takes a step towards his bedside, and then another. “Please, open your eyes.” She whispers, brushing her thumb over one of his cheekbones gently. 

There’s something final in her voice and all at once, he understands that she’s right. This time has felt different since he originally opened his eyes but a mixture of morphine and denial had allowed him to extend the fantasy his subconscious had created. “I don’t want to.” He confesses quietly, keeping them snuggly shut. He knows that as soon as he opens them, he has to face reality, the dream officially ends. All at once, the things he’d just said to her flash across his mind and he’s suddenly mortified and embarrassed; afraid of how he may have just ruined everything. 

“Please,” Her voice is sanguine, cheering him on. “For me,” She adds, knowing full well those words will trap him into doing what she’s asked whether he wants to or not. He does open his eyes, but he can’t bring himself to look at her, and it breaks her heart a little. She doesn’t want him to feel like this. She isn’t exactly sure what it is she wants for either of them in this moment, but she yearns to make his pain go away. And her own, for that matter. Even if he’d made all those confessions under the false pretense of being in some suspended reality, she still felt the weight of them. More terrifying than that, she knew he meant every word. It was amazing how much conviction you could muster when you thought there were no consequences.

“You should-”

“Did you-”

They started and stopped at the same time, which caused him to finally cast his eyes up to hers. “You first, please.” His request was almost desperate, so she was compelled to oblige him.

“Did you mean all those things you said?” It was a very straightforward question, but a loaded one at that. She wasn’t sure what exactly she was hoping for his answer to be, but she felt like she already knew the truth.

For a beat, he just looked at her long and hard, as if deciding whether or not everything was presently too fragile to handle the truth. The prolonged silence, the way he stared so deeply into her soul, those alone were enough to answer her question. But he articulated a response anyway. “Yes, completely.”

She smiled first. A huge, genuine smile that she couldn’t stop from spreading even if she wanted to. But then, she nodded curtly, her eyes brimming with tears again. “Archie, I-” But she wasn’t sure where to begin. Suddenly, she was rising from the chair she’d occupied and in the next instant she was leaving the room. Then, as the door closed quietly behind her, he was alone. 

He closed his eyes, and let the tears stream out. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected. Of course that would scare her away. It was too little, too late. Those were the words he was supposed to say all those months ago in front of her house, not now that she’d moved on and fallen in love with someone else. And not just someone else, with Jughead. His male best friend. Just like he had chosen Veronica over her. He’d made the choice to hurt her. He was supposed to live with the consequences. But now? Now he’d made another choice to hurt her again. But this time? This time he wasn’t sure their friendship could survive it. 

Less than an hour had passed since she left when he heard the door handle turn and click open again. He’d been sat in quiet contemplation, wondering when she’d be back. She’d left her purse sitting on the floor so he knew she’d have to come back to get that at the very least. He considered, very briefly, pretending to be asleep so she could leave quietly and without any awkward goodbyes. But he couldn’t bring himself to do that. No, it wasn’t just that he couldn’t bring himself to, it was that he knew she deserved so much better than that from him. If this was how everything ended between them, it would have to be done right.

“Bets,” He began, as she closed the door behind her, but she put up her hand to silence him before she lost whatever nerve she’d mustered up that had brought her back in here.

“It’s not fair, what you said to me.” She said, stopping so that she was standing next to his bed with her arms folded across his chest. 

“Betty I’m-” She shook her head, indicating that she wasn’t done, that it was still her turn.

“It’s not fair because if I didn’t know, I could just have been fine with the way things were. I could’ve loved him, probably forever. And even if some part of me would always just know that it wasn’t supposed to be, I could’ve just squashed it down and told myself that it didn’t matter because you were never going to-” She was crying now and she took a ragged breath to collect herself. “But now I can’t unhear what you said to me. Or unfeel the way it made me feel.” She looks almost angry at him as she says that.

He wasn’t expecting any of that and in spite of himself, it makes him feel hopeful, happy even. He reaches for her and to his surprise, she takes his hand and stepped closer. He isn’t sure what to say at first, so he just brushes his thumb over the back of her knuckles gently a few times. “Well, maybe I don’t want you to unhear it or unfeel it.” He finally manages, drawing his eyes back to meet hers. They share a thoughtful look as she takes a ragged breath.

“I’m sorry I ran out on you.” He turns her hand over in his own, his thumb brushing against the underside of her wrist now instead. “I...did something.” She said plainly, her eyes falling to look at the hypnotic patterns he traced against her wrist. Before he could ask for more details, she was offering them. “I called Jughead and told him I needed some time and space,” She cast her eyes back to his and swallowed hard, allowing the weight of her words to hit them both with full effect.

Archie swallowed the lump that had formed his his throat as she’d started her sentence. His heart was beating in his ears, thumping hard and blocking out all of the other noise in the room. “You,” He studied her in disbelief. “You broke up with him?” He asked, his voice so quiet it was as though he were afraid speaking too loudly would make it suddenly not true.

She simply nodded, fear still etched into her face until the smile that broke out across his seemed contagious and her own grin played at her lips. “I broke up with him,” Saying the words out loud made her heart clench with guilt, but she knew it was the right thing. She would never feel the same way about Jug anymore, not knowing how Archie felt. Not knowing how  _ she _ would always feel about him. 

“I know that doesn’t mean we automatically-” But before he could finish, her lips were against his and he was discovering his new favorite way to be proven wrong. It was better than any of the kisses they’d shared in his dream-induced mirages. They stopped kissing only when his heart monitor started screaming out beeps indicating his suddenly elevated heart rate. Sharing a laugh, she pulled back slightly. “Why don’t I go talk to a nurse about getting you out of here, hmm?” She moved to stand back upright, but he tugged her back down, kissing her again.

“I’d like that,” He smiled, finally letting go of her and watching in quiet fascination as she left the room. He wasn’t convinced this still wasn’t a dream, but he was content to ride it out as long as he could. Pulling the blanket off his lap, he moved to swing his legs of the side of the bed and stand up. He got a slight head rush and it took a moment to get his bearings, but steadied himself against the IV tower, using it for support to walk to the bathroom.

He was studying the gauze wrapped around his shoulder when he heard her come back in the room. “Good news, they’re just going to come check, clean, and redress your wound one more time and then we need to stop by the pharmacy to get some antibiotics and pain meds and then,” She poked her head around the bathroom door, “We can head out. I can rent us a hotel for the night, unless you have a place? Then we can figure out what we’re going to do in the morning.”

He looked at her through the mirror and smiled gently again, turning around and beckoning her closer. “I have a cabin, it’s probably not too far from wherever we are.” He let his hand rest on her hip and he leaned down, kissing her softly again, almost in disbelief at his ability to do that. “It’s not much, but it’ll do for the night.”

She nodded, grinning in return. “A cabin?” She cocked an eyebrow, “Sounds rustic.” She added, turning when she heard the door to his room open. “That’s probably the nurse. While she fixes you up, I’m going to head down to the cafeteria and grab us some food before they close.” Her stomach growled, as if to punctuate the necessity of the later.

By the time she was returning with sandwiches and drinks, she found him standing in front of the nurse’s station with what appeared to be discharge papers and his jacket draped over his arm. Vegas, who’d been given refuge in one of the on call rooms, was also sat by his feet ready to go. “All set?” She asked, to which he nodded and placed his hand on the small of her back, guiding her back towards the elevator’s she’d just stepped out of. 

The sun was already setting by the time they got into her car and he knew that he didn’t want to deal with trying to get out to the cabin in the dark with her in tow so he offered to drive since he knew the area better and could get them there a little faster. Despite having been almost mortally wounded by an actual bear, she’d agreed to the idea and so he’d settled behind the driver’s seat and they’d headed out to the woods. An uneasy feeling loomed over them as they drove into the setting sun, but leaving civilization behind them in the rearview mirror felt oddly symbolic. 

It took less than twenty minutes to get to the clearing where he knew they could park her car and make a short hike to the cabin. There was still a considerable amount of light left, but he didn’t want to waste any time. She urged him to take it easy as he, again, had just survived a bear attack, but they made it to the cabin in good time regardless. “It’s quaint,” She observed non-judgmentally, staring around the small, humble space as he locked the door behind them. It was no Ritz Carlton, but it would do. 

Clean sheets adorned the bed, someone must’ve come back and cleaned up after him when he’d gone to the hospital. He sat down on them, watching as Betty took out the food she’d gotten at the hospital. It wasn’t until she was handing him the sandwich and bag of chips that he realized how truly ravenous he was. Not long after, she sat down next to him and they both ate in relative silence. This still didn’t feel entirely real.

When she was full, she offered him the rest of her sandwich and he took it appreciatively, finishing it in one bite before moving to clean up after them. As he gets a fire going, he is caught off guard by the question she asks from across the room. “In your dreams, did we…” She raises her eyebrows with suggestive emphasis even though he isn’t looking at her. 

Turning around and walking back towards her, he can’t stop the grin that spreads across his face. “Yes, that we did.” He also couldn’t stop the slight blush that had come to tint his cheeks with that admission.

“And?” She gave him an expectant look.

“And...it was amazing. Mind blowing.” He couldn’t hide the pure happiness that spread across his features as he recalled their most intimate of encounters, or rather, the ones he’s imagined. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and he bites down on his bottom one, recalling exactly how it felt.

“Show me,” She isn’t sure if it’s a request or a challenge, but she reaches for his hand, inviting him closer, suddenly envious of this insider information he has.

“We don’t have to…” He says quietly, but he’s already pulling her towards him so she’s flush against his chest and upright.

“I want to,” She admits, almost abashedly. That’s all he needs to hear before he loses himself in her. His lips capture hers with a familiarity they shouldn’t have yet. Maybe those dreams were actually just practice for this.

The real thing is so much better than any dream or hallucination. As they shed every piece of clothing that separates them from one another, it’s done with painstaking love and care, as if neither of them are sure this will happen again so they’ll both bother taking their time to remember every detail as it happens. Her eyes glance over his bandaged shoulder with a moment of hesitation, “Maybe you should rest-” But his lips are crushing hers and along with that, any argument she may put up for him needing to save his energy. 

“I could be dying and I’d have the strength for this,” He promises against her neck lasciviously. It’s with that breathy confession that she loses any willpower she has left. She’s lost to her desires, and to his.

She isn’t sure how much time has passed when she finds salacious release for the third time since they started their passionate foray, but she knows she’s absolutely spent and he must be too as she collapses against his chest shortly thereafter. A million thoughts are swirling through her mind now and she isn’t sure where to begin. 

She starts first with, “I love you, Arch.”

He smiles, pressing a kiss between her breasts. “I love you, too.”

The fire crackles behind them and she snuggles herself closer against his side, pressing a lazy kiss to his shoulder. “We could stay here,” She whispers the words into existence. “Me, you, Vegas…”

“Betty…” He doesn’t want to ruin this beautiful experience by telling her that it’s not realistic, instead he uses his arm to pull her closer. “We don’t have to decide anything tonight, let’s just enjoy-”

“I’m serious, Arch.” She props herself up on his chest and stares at him plainly, as if she’s already considered all the options and her mind’s been made up. “There’s nothing for me in Riverdale. My mom is…” She shrugs, not bothering to finish. “There just isn’t anything there for me, okay? You can do whatever you want, but I’m not going back.”

She speaks with such self-assurance that he can’t argue. These aren’t the words of some delusional teenage girl who wants to live in a fantasy world. They’re the ones of a person who has been looking for a way out for far too long and now that she’d seen one? She couldn’t go back even if she wanted to.

He studies her face, shadows casting against it as the firelight dances. “Okay,” He nods, tilting her chin up so his lips are hovering over hers. “We won’t go back.” His words are more like a pledge than anything else. Then, he voices one final promise, his eyes finding hers again, “I love you, more than anything. That will never change.” 

“More than anything. Forever.” She agrees, stealing one more kiss from his lips before snuggling against his chest desirously, as a thick haze of sleep finally came for them both.


End file.
